Hard to Find
by DaisyofGalaxy
Summary: The very first book every cadet in the Academy reads mentions two rules a sane time traveler should follow. There are only two absolutely forbidden things: crossing your own timeline and interfering with already established facts. He didn't listen when they tried to talk some sense into him and broke the latter. Now he is about to flout the other. And again he is doing it for her.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't know why we had to lose**  
 **The ones who took so little space**  
 **They're still waiting for the east**  
 **To cover what we can't erase**

 **I'm not holding out for you**  
 **I'm still watching for the signs**  
 **If I tried you'd probably be**  
 **Hard to find**

 _The National - Hard To Find_

It was supposed to be a routine mission. He was just supposed to help. Assist them with the task which was too heavy for their little, inexperienced shoulders.

But it always works this way – small things that lead to much bigger, sometimes even impossible, ones. Some call it a twist of fate, others claim it is only a stroke of luck, he, in turn, finds it the only real justice in the world of endless unfairness.

"Once again thank you for your help," a youngster, called Charlie, says as they walk along the narrow corridor which smells like a combination of floor polish and fried food- a common trait of every school in this part of the Galaxy. The building is almost empty, a strange thing taking into account the hundreds of teenagers entering its walls every morning, but quite common in the late afternoon.

"Do you do this often? Catch monsters like Denebians?" The boy keeps talking not minding entirely the fact his conversationalist isn't even given a chance to chime in to his tightly-packed monologue.

"Funny thing I've read recently a book about a man who travelled from one place to another and earned his keep by killing monsters. I even tried to watch its screen adaptation, but it was just so bad. It's hard to believe how much the movie industry has changed in the last decade. It's much better. Sometimes, I like to speculate how much better it will be in next ten years. Will they create 5D cinemas and stuff," the boy buries him with words. They leave his mouth like water leaves a fractured dam.

From time to time, the Doctor turns around and only nods. He isn't eager to start another conversation today. Not after so many hours of patiently answering to their every, even the dumbest question. Sometimes he can't understand the people of this planet. More specifically, he can't catch on why they couldn't just leave a person alone if they showed all signs informing them about their reserved nature. Instead they felt an unexplainable and utterly ridiculous urge to involve them in conversation, sometimes at any cost. For a society that relished in psychotherapy and talking, they were particularly ignorant.

Guided by the boy, he reaches the last corridor separating him from the main entrance and the red shed in which the Tardis was parked.

"They'll never create 5D cinemas, if you must know," he tells the boy with hint of enthusiasm in his voice. It's a genuine one – a way of showing his just born buoyancy. He is going home.

"Strange, I thought it was a safe bet." The boy wrinkles his nose.

"You may disbelieve but I'm from the time-" He starts to smart off but breaks mid sentence when he spots an inscription on the glassy doors leading to one of the classrooms.

"Oswald?" He blurts.

"Yes, Miss Oswald. She's my English teacher." The boy shrugs his thin shoulders. "She seems nice but can be very unforgiving if she's crossed. Better not to give her reason to dislike you."

The Doctor looks up at him. His eyes are likely in the size of the Pollux, if not the Arcturus.

"Is?" He chokes up as if he was electrocuted.

Thousands of memories and feelings are waking up in his brain as he reads the short name over and over again. How long has it been since he has last seen her? _Or rather since he let go of her._

"I think so. At least she was in the morning when she gave me a D on my latest test," the adolescent murmurs, but his words only ring in the Doctor's head. In that very moment he is back in the middle of a desert in Utah. He sits at a red bar table in a lonesome diner and makes the biggest blunder in his entire life. _How could he not realize it was her?_

"You know her?" He reiterates when his mind comes back to the here and now. Slowly his pulped brain starts to work again. "What's today's date?" He almost whispers.

"June 12th 2016." The boy answers and gives him a blunt look of utter confusion at the same time that he starts to feel first droplets of salty fluid forming in his eyes. Normally, he would never let anyone see him being emotional, but today was different.

He didn't care anymore. Today reminded him about _it_ all over again.

June 12th – a week from now they'll go to the Trap street.

A week from now will take him to Gallifrey and he will run away. _Again._

Only this time with her. Then almost intoxicated he will see her in the Diner. He won't recognize her. She'll leave and he won't see her ever again. _For almost three hundred years he had not once come across her._

"I need to check one thing. I'll find my Tardis myself. Thank you, it was my pleasure." The Doctor says with a wide, fake grin at his face. He must look like a loony – all smiles and devastation at the same time. Deep down he wishes the adolescent is clever enough to notice his subtle begging to get off his back.

Without another word, the boy turns on his heels and leaves.

 _Only for a second_ \- he tries to salve his conscience as his hand reaches for the screwdriver and starts to work on the old lock blocking the interior of the room from him. To his luck or maybe it was exactly opposite, the door opens without a bigger struggle. _He's in._

He passes the threshold of the room and quietly closes the door after himself – witnesses of his small crime are the last thing he wants. He can't tell why he needs to be here. Nor does he want to know his own reasons. Nonetheless it feels almost right. He almost feels her presence when he takes a seat in her chair and stares aimlessly at the space around him. _She's everywhere._

She's in the tones of the folders and binders segregated according to their colour on wooden shelves. In the red mug in white dots she keeps on her desk and in the thin cardie hanging from the chair. He unpegs the latter and buries his face in it, breathing in the sweet smell of her – a wonderful mixture of cotton candy, some exotic flowers, and _her_.

He had not once thought he would miss this place. For most of the time he loathed it for its impersonal and clerical character, yet today he would give up everything to one who could give away how to visit it more often.

His hearts skip a beat when he hears a metallic sound of the key in the keyhole.

"Do I sneak up to your Tardis to scare you?" Clara whines as she enters the room and stops next him. She stares at him with her arms crossed and eyes fixed on him so intensely that he can almost feel the skin on his forehead burn.

She's so perfect. Much more beautiful than the silhouette he sees sometimes when he closes his eyelids and dares to dream about her.

He wants to scream at the top of his lungs. Tell her about everything he wished he could share with her over the last few centuries. About every time he had seen something breath-taking and looked over his shoulder only to once again remind himself that there was no one by his side, and each time he was horrified. He wants to tell her how much he was panting for her company; instead he just stares.

"No. Why do you keep doing that to me then?" She continues while he gazes at her in amazement. His eyes shift around nervously between her face, high-heeled shoes, and dress in white and black stripes.

"Clara-" He finally breaks up. _Almost in agony._

"Don't you dare try using your tricks on me!" She tells him with a serious expression on her lovely face. There are other words leaving her mouth too, but he can't hear them. His mind is way too distracted with her red as a raspberry in the summertime lips. _Were they always like this_ \- the shabby neurons are trying to clinch.

Totally unexpected she takes another step forward and wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind.

"It's good to see you, though. And I'm glad you showed up. I really doubted you would when you promised me to come with me to that wedding," she breathes out while he feels her chin dig in his skinny neck.

 _What wedding –_ he thinks to himself for good moment before his mind starts to recall an event to which they never attended so long ago. He promised her he would take her there but eventually chickened out telling himself they would only regret it. Now he sees his motive clearly. He knew where their relationship was heading and got scared. It's funny because right now he would die to take that chance.

He's about to tell her he can't. His clever mind whispered thousands of lies she would likely accept without questioning them even for a moment. It seems so easy, but yet he never uses any of them.

"Your ship awaits," he answers and joins his hands with hers.

If he has to repent of something, at least he will have a really good reason.


	2. Chapter 2

The very first book every cadet in the Academy reads mentions two rules a sane time traveler should follow. There are only two absolutely forbidden things:

Crossing your own timeline and,

Interfering with already established facts.

Centuries earlier, he didn't listen when they tried to talk some sense into him and broke the latter.

Now he is about to flout the other. And again he is doing it because of _her_.

"The ceremony isn't until tomorrow afternoon. What do you want to do till then?'' she asks as they enter the Tardis and the grip of her hand around his loosens. A short whoosh leaves his nostrils when she does it. He isn't ready. Not after so many years of not having her hand in his.

"What do you suggest?" he mumbles under his breath still grieving lost intimacy.

She leans on the metal guardrail and smiles at him, and her grin is the most charming one he'd ever seen. What was going on with his brain was the question he should ask, but he never does. Instead he settles for gawking.

"We can go somewhere exotic or stay at my place," she offers.

"Your place!" He cries out with not a second of delay and freezes when even he himself realizes the freakiness of his actions. He needs to compose himself otherwise she'll blow his cover sooner than he knows.

"Okay," she drawls. "You sure? My fridge is empty so we either go out or need to visit a grocery store on our way back."

For a moment he is as quiet as the grave. It's only a semblance, though. Deep beneath a layer of silver hair, his brain solves the most complicated equation in a very long time.

He would kill for a little role-playing with her, but what would _her_ Doctor choose?

"Shopping will do, but no cooking show, please. I like this new body and don't want to consider regeneration any time soon," he says while his tone is doing its best to imitate grousing.

"Then I can only feel sorry for you because there is an apple pie on the menu. But if you don't want it, I'll eat it myself," she answers back and he breathes out a sigh of relief. _She really bought it._

He feels pity for himself however. With hindsight, her desserts weren't that bad at all. In particular her charlotte with vanilla ice cream. Unfortunately, the moron he was back then didn't realize his bad.

She joins him by the console panel and helps type the coordinates.

"Come on then. We don't have the entire day," she says with excitement as the rotor starts to move. They do it together – just like they always used to.

Before long the engine halts and the ship releases a well-known noise. Not waiting for him, she approaches the doors and peeks outside.

"I meant the supermarket a few blocks away from the school," Clara giggles before she takes the first step. He follows in silence and takes a good look at her. A concern that she may catch him red-handed passes through his mind, but the urge to see as much of her as he can is stronger.

After a long moment and a little bit more satisfied, he catches up with her.

"We're on Hyspero. Best marketplace in the known part of the Universe," he explains to her.

She reaches her hand back and wraps it gently around his arm.

"I was aiming for shepherd's pie and beer, but I appreciate the effort," she hums while they walk beneath a huge wooden banner informing them that they have entered the market.

"Fancy little lesson on local gastronomy? I have a feeling I haven't seen any of it in my life," she concludes sadly as they pass first of stalls.

"Do you prefer the taste of chicken or salmon?" he tries to be considerate and stops in front of a butcher stand. He points at many different types of meat each time giving her a quick description of what she can expect. After a long moment of consideration, she decides on a few blue shellfishes resembling king crabs.

"You dress them!" she directs to him as the salesman hands her the purchase.

"They're quite good with butter and few drops of fresh gayumber juice." He rolls his eyes and takes the apparently disguising package. He can't understand how it was even possible – liking chicken and pork and yet looking at other meat with disgust. "I was about to suggest coriander soup but since you can't bear simple crabs you likely won't like alien venison."

Hearing him, Clara only shakes her head.

"I thought so," he sighs and gestures for her to move.

After few rounds around the market, they take a seat on a wooden bench, watching the world around them continue its mad race. Now when he finally has a chance to glance at it, his eyes notice how much has changed since they arrived. It must be getting late- he reasons out. The star illuminating the market decorates it now with a pale golden glow. It seems colder. Also the crowd in which they had to shift around not so long ago is almost gone.

"You upset me," Clara stirs the silence. "Two weeks ago when I kissed you and you packed your stuff and left me. I felt like an idiot. After Tranzelore, I promised myself I won't let you get there ever again. I forgave you and you did it again."

He knows too well what she is talking about. Even after so many years, he still remembers.

That evening they put their feet up in her flat, she found some courage and brushed her lips to his. In return, he lied that he had to go to bathroom and ran away.

"I'm glad you showed up again," she continues. "Although pretending it didn't happen is worse than hearing you finally say _that_."

"It's not the right time,' he sighs. It really isn't. After all, it's not he with whom she should talk it through.

"I know it's not. It never is!" she cuts him. For a moment she remains silent, just stares aimlessly and purses her lips critically. "Can you take me home now?" It is more of a demand and gets up off the bench.

She keeps the tension down during their entire way back. The only words leaving her mouth are quick instructions to unpack the bags and help her with _the_ _freaking crabs_.

"Pass me the remote," she says coldly as they lie on the pulled out bed-settee in her living room. All seems quite cosy: darkness, warm blankets, the smell of her freshly-bathed body so close to his own, a huge bowl of popcorn he keeps on his belly and some silly cartoons which clearly weren't for children. Everything is just like he wished it would be, yet it feels far from comfortable. Heavy clouds his younger self brought still hang above their heads.

She does everything to show how annoyed she is, but still her hands reach for his each time he dares to pull away from the hug. Everything is so ambiguous and it confuses him.

"Can I change the channel?" he asks when the episode ends. He never gets a response other than soft snores coming from the body next to him.

With one click he turns the flickering machine off and the room sinks into complete darkness. The only navigation in the dark is now a dim light creeping in through the curtains. He likes the change. It even convinces his mind it's time to sleep.

He moves closer to her. A long sigh leaves her lips when she subconsciously feels his presence, but she doesn't wake up. She just gulps and tightens her grasp on his arm. Slowly, he lets himself drift off a little. Eyes closed and face buried in her pyjamas, as he breathes in the sweet scent he missed for all these years.

It drives him insane.

In less than a week it will be over. Both their travels and the friendship he wished could last forever. It crosses his mind he could change it - take her away even tonight and stop the tragedy before it happened.

He knows he doesn't want it, though. Put at risk something he fought so much for is even worse than letting it be. She might be far away, but at least she's there. Somewhere far away from him, yet still very much real. He just hasn't found her yet.

The Moon peeks into the room as he lies in the bed and stares into space. Maybe sometime… Somewhere… Some way… she glances at a twin celestial body and thinks about him. Nah, she likely forgot about him forever ago, convinced he did the same.

 _If only she knew…_

He snuggles to her and mulls over it. His brain starts again the debate if she forgot about him already? Is he another Danny Pink now? A photography resting silently on her bookshelf or bedside table or a memory of the past that will always remain only past. She did it to Danny, so why would it be different with him?

He could never do that to her. Even with the neural block paralysing his brain, he still knows to whom his hearts belongs. But what about her?

If he knew the she still cares about him, even a little bit, he would leave no stone unturned and find her.

Only he doesn't have this privilege. Doubts are all he was left with.

On better days, he thinks she hasn't changed much. On others, he claims there is nothing to save anymore.

He doesn't want to sleep but gradually he does.

It feels like crying himself to sleep. Almost.

The room around them slowly starts to change into nothingness and he stops to mind it. He's finally in a place where the sadness can't reach.


End file.
